#I don’t know when this crack au came to be but I’ve been meaning to draw something related to it for so long

[critterishere]

this the collab of the century!?!?!?

[mcrdvcks]

Could I request a one shot of Old Man Logan? Something with fluff and angst like a huge argument between him and his other half and Laura works to get them to make up after days of not talking

things i wish you said

chapter summary: You and Logan get into a fight and Laura tries to get the two of you to see the errors in your ways.

word count: 2.8k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: thank y'all for sending in requests! i've been working on the last chapter of i love you, in every time but i ran into a bit of writer's block so the requests really helped <3

anyways, i hope this was what you wanted anon!

warnings/tags: au of 'logan (2017)' aka logan doesn't die at the end, arguments, angst, laura being smarter than reader and logan, really this is just laura being a smartass, fluff

"I can’t believe you!” You set the dish towel angrily down on the counter, glaring at Logan. “You are the most stubborn man I have ever met.”

Logan leaned back against the doorframe, arms crossed, his expression hard. “Yeah? Well, someone’s gotta be stubborn, considering you’re trying to fix a situation that ain’t broken.”

“It is broken, Logan!” you snapped, pointing a finger at him. “You just refuse to see it because that’s what you do! Shut everything out, pretend like nothing’s wrong until it all blows up in your face.”

His jaw clenched, and he shook his head. “What’s wrong is you makin’ a mountain out of a molehill. I said I’ll handle it.”

“You handling it usually means disappearing for a week and coming back bloodied and brooding!” You threw your hands up, exasperated. “God forbid you actually let someone help you for once.”

“I don’t need your help!” he barked, his voice rising. “I’ve been doin’ just fine on my own for years.”

“And look where that’s gotten you!” The words came out sharper than you intended, but the frustration boiling in your chest wouldn’t let you stop. “You’re not on your own anymore, Logan. When are you gonna get that through your thick skull?”

Logan’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, he said nothing. Then, his voice dropped to a dangerous low. “You don’t think I know that? I didn’t ask for any of this, but here we are. I’m doin’ the best I can, and it ain’t enough for you, is it?”

“That’s not what I said!” You took a step toward him, shaking your head in disbelief. “But you don’t even try to meet me halfway. You just... shut down and push me out the second it gets hard.”

“Maybe I’m tryin’ to protect you,” he shot back, his words laced with frustration.

“From what? From you?” Your voice cracked, the argument chipping away at the walls you’d built to keep your own emotions in check. “I’m not scared of you, Logan. What scares me is losing you because you’re too damn stubborn to let anyone in.”

Logan’s mouth opened as if to retort, but no words came. He stood there, breathing hard, the weight of your words hanging heavy between you. Without another word, he turned and stalked out of the room, the screen door slamming behind him.

You stood there, staring at the door, your heart pounding. Part of you wanted to go after him, to yell more, to make him understand. But another part of you was too tired—too hurt.

The house was quiet now, save for the faint creak of the floorboards as Laura walked in from the hallway. She didn’t say anything right away, just hovered in the doorway, her arms crossed in that way that made her look far older than her twelve years.

“You two are so loud,” she finally said, her tone flat but edged with something that sounded suspiciously like annoyance.

You groaned, dropping your hands and looking over at her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. We didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” Laura replied, stepping further into the kitchen. She pulled out a chair and sat across from you, her sharp gaze studying your face. “You’re crying.”

You swiped at your cheek quickly, though you weren’t sure why. Laura didn’t miss much. “It’s nothing, kiddo.”

“It didn’t sound like nothing,” she said, her tone even. She leaned her elbows on the table, her small hands clasped together. “You and Logan fight all the time now.”

“That’s not true,” you replied automatically, though the words felt hollow as soon as you said them.

Laura just stared at you, unblinking. “It is.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “Sometimes grown-ups argue. That’s just how it is.”

“Yeah, but you’re mad at him all the time. And he’s mad at himself. It’s annoying.” Her bluntness cut through you, and she tilted her head. “Are you going to leave?”

“What? No.” The question startled you, and you leaned forward. “No, Laura. I’m not going anywhere. I love Logan. I just... wish he’d stop shutting me out.”

Laura didn’t say anything for a while. She just stared at you, her gaze as sharp as ever, like she was picking apart everything you’d just said.

Finally, she shrugged. “Then tell him.”

You blinked. “I have told him.”

“No, you yelled at him.” Her voice was flat, matter-of-fact, and it made you feel about two inches tall. “That’s not the same.”

You sighed, running a hand over your face. “It’s complicated, kid.”

Laura tilted her head. “No, it’s not. You’re mad. He’s mad. You both stop talking. Then you stay mad.”

You stared at her, caught off guard by how simple she made it sound. “It’s not that easy.”

Laura didn’t respond to that, just gave you a look—one of those looks that made you realize this twelve-year-old could probably win a staring contest with the Grim Reaper. She stood up without another word and walked back toward the hallway, leaving you sitting there with a mix of frustration, guilt, and... something else you couldn’t quite name.

---

The next few days were... quiet. Too quiet. Logan didn’t come around much, and when he did, it was brief—mostly to grab a beer or say a gruff goodnight. You didn’t push him, not yet, but the silence between you was its own kind of argument.

You also knew that he wasn’t sleeping in bed with you. You could tell because you’d wake up early for work, only to find Logan sprawled out on the couch, his legs dangling off the armrest. You would’ve woken him up—told him to go to bed while you left—but you stopped yourself every time. The anger hadn’t completely faded, but it had started to feel hollow, replaced by something heavier.

This morning was no different. You paused in the living room doorway, coffee in hand, watching him. He was fast asleep, one arm thrown over his face, the other hanging off the edge of the couch. You sighed quietly to yourself.

“Just go to bed, idiot,” you muttered under your breath, knowing he wouldn’t hear it.

---

Laura stood in the doorway of the garage, watching Logan fiddle with the same part of the truck he’d been pretending to fix for the past twenty minutes. She didn’t say anything at first—just stood there, arms crossed, her quiet presence heavy enough that Logan eventually sighed.

“You gonna say somethin’ or just stand there starin’?” he muttered without looking up, his voice rough.

Laura shrugged. “You’re not fixing anything.”

Logan’s hands paused for half a second before he went back to the wrench, a little harder this time. “Truck needs work.”

“It doesn’t,” Laura said bluntly. “You’re hiding.”

Logan froze again, jaw tightening. “Ain’t hidin’.”

“You are,” she insisted. Laura took a step closer, eyeing him like he was some kind of experiment she was studying. “You and Y/N are mad. It’s annoying.”

Logan finally looked up at her, scowling. “What’s annoying is you stickin’ your nose where it don’t belong.”

Laura didn’t flinch. She just stared at him, unfazed as ever. “If you don’t talk to her, she’s going to leave.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, and his grip on the wrench tightened. “She’s not gonna leave.”

Laura raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

Logan stared at her, expression unreadable, but he didn’t answer. He looked back at the truck instead, as if the bolts and metal could give him something to focus on. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, kid.”

Laura stepped closer, crossing her arms tighter over her chest. “I know you. And I know her. She cries when you’re not looking.”

Logan stilled, his shoulders tensing, but he didn’t look at her. He didn’t want to hear it—didn’t want to think about it.

Laura didn’t stop. “You think shutting her out makes her safer, but it doesn’t. It just makes her sad.”

“Laura,” Logan said sharply, his voice low.

She ignored the warning in his tone. “You don’t want her to leave, but you’re acting like you do.”

That hit something, and Logan finally set the wrench down, exhaling harshly. “You don’t get it.”

“I do.” Laura’s voice was calm, but there was something pointed beneath it. “You’re scared. You don’t want to need her.”

Logan looked at her, his scowl deeper now, though it lacked its usual bite. “Yeah? Where’d you get all that from?”

Laura shrugged. “I watch you. I listen. You’re both loud.”

Logan shook his head and ran a hand over his face, grumbling under his breath. “You’re a real pain, you know that?”

She just tilted her head. “You’re worse.”

Logan let out a low, humorless chuckle. “Great. So now I’m gettin’ life advice from a twelve-year-old.”

Laura shrugged again and turned to leave. “If you don’t talk to her, I will.”

That got his attention. “Hey—”

But she was already walking out of the garage, not bothering to look back. “You’re welcome,” she called flatly.

Logan swore under his breath, watching her disappear. He sat there for a moment, hands resting on his knees, staring at the half-fixed truck. He hated that kid sometimes—hated how she could cut right through him like that.

And worse, she was right.

---

You came back from work late, opting to eat out instead of at home to avoid any awkward interactions. By the time you walked through the door, the house was dark except for the faint glow of the kitchen light. You set your bag down quietly, not wanting to risk waking anyone up.

But as you turned toward the living room, you noticed Logan sitting on the couch, a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the coffee table. He wasn’t looking at you—his gaze was fixed on the floor, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely together.

You hesitated, debating whether to say anything or just go straight to bed. Before you could decide, his gravelly voice cut through the silence.

“You didn’t come home last night.”

You froze, then blinked. “What?”

He finally looked up at you, his expression unreadable. “Laura told me. Said she noticed. I didn’t.”

You frowned, your heart sinking a little. “Logan, I—”

“I should’ve noticed,” he interrupted, his voice low, almost too quiet. He leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face. “That’s on me.”

You crossed your arms, unsure what to say. “I didn’t stay out because of you.”

“Yeah, you did,” he replied bluntly, cutting you off again. “You’re avoiding me. I get it.”

The way he said it—so matter-of-fact, like he was resigned to it—made something twist in your chest. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I’m not avoiding you. I just needed... space.”

Logan scoffed, his lips curling into a humorless smirk. “Space. Right. Because I’m such a walk in the park to be around.”

“Logan—”

“I get it,” he repeated, louder this time, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You don’t have to explain it. I know what I’m like. Hell, Laura reminds me every day.”

You shook your head, stepping closer. “This isn’t about Laura. It’s not even about you being... difficult. It’s about you not letting me in.”

He stiffened at that, his jaw clenching. “I’m tryin’.”

“Are you?” Your voice softened, but the hurt was still there. “Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you’re just waiting for me to give up.”

His eyes flicked to yours, and for a second, you thought he might argue. But then he sighed, slumping back against the couch. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice rough, almost bitter. “I don’t know how to let someone in without... screwin’ it all up.”

You stared at him, the anger you’d been holding onto slipping away, replaced by something softer. “You don’t have to have all the answers, Logan. I don’t expect you to be perfect. I just need you to try.”

“I am trying,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “It just... doesn’t feel like it’s enough.”

“It is,” you said firmly, stepping closer until you were standing in front of him. “But you can’t keep shutting me out every time things get hard. That’s not how this works.”

He looked up at you, his expression guarded but vulnerable in a way you rarely saw. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, just studied your face like he was trying to decide whether to believe you.

Finally, he let out a long breath and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees again. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” you said softly, your voice steady. “But you have to let me stay.”

Logan nodded slowly, like he was finally starting to understand. “Alright,” he said, his voice low but resolute. “I’ll... figure it out.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” you said, offering a small, tentative smile.

He didn’t smile back, but the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. He leaned back against the couch, his eyes meeting yours. “You eaten?”

You blinked at the sudden change in topic. “What?”

“You look tired,” he said gruffly. “Bet you skipped dinner.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “I grabbed something on the way home.”

"Good," he muttered again, leaning back against the couch with a long exhale. His hand moved to the bottle of whiskey, but instead of picking it up, his fingers drummed against the glass absently.

You hesitated, then walked over to the couch, standing just in front of him. “Logan.”

He looked up at you, his brow furrowing slightly, waiting for you to say whatever was on your mind.

Instead, you sat down beside him, close enough that your knees touched. For a second, neither of you said anything. Then Logan let out another heavy sigh, reached over, and pulled you into his lap with a quiet grunt.

“Logan—”

“Just sit,” he said, his tone softer than usual, though still carrying that gruff edge. One of his hands rested lightly on your hip, the other settled on your thigh. His forehead dropped against your shoulder, and you could feel the tension in him start to ease as he let himself rest against you.

Your hands moved up instinctively, one settling on his arm, the other gently threading through his hair. He didn’t say anything at first, just breathed deeply, the weight of the past few days pressing down on both of you.

“You should come to bed tonight,” you murmured after a while, your voice quiet but steady.

Logan didn’t move, but you felt the way his body tensed under you. “I’m fine out here.”

“You’re not,” you said simply, your fingers brushing through his hair again. “You look miserable on this couch.”

He huffed a quiet laugh against your shoulder. “I’ll survive.”

“That’s not the point,” you pressed. “I want you in bed. With me. Where you belong.”

Logan lifted his head then, his eyes meeting yours. His expression was guarded, but there was something softer there too, like he was considering your words. “You sure you want me there?”

“Of course I’m sure,” you said, your hand moving to cup his jaw. “I always want you there, Logan. Even when I’m mad at you. Especially when I’m mad at you.”

That earned a faint smirk from him, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Didn’t think I was much for sharing a bed with someone.”

“Well, you’re not great at it,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. “You steal the blankets, and you snore.”

“Don’t snore,” he muttered, his lips twitching slightly.

“You absolutely snore,” you shot back, smiling despite yourself. “But I don’t care. I just want you there.”

Logan studied you for a moment, his hand tightening slightly on your hip. Finally, he gave a small nod. “Alright.”

You smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his temple. “Good.”

For a few minutes, you stayed like that, the silence between you no longer heavy but comfortable. Logan’s head rested against your chest, and you could feel the tension slowly draining out of him as your fingers moved lazily through his hair.

“Y’know,” he muttered after a while, his voice low, “Laura’s a pain in the ass sometimes.”

You chuckled softly. “She’s just looking out for you. For us.”

Logan grunted, his arm tightening around you slightly. “Kid’s too damn smart for her own good.”

“She gets that from you,” you said, smiling.

That earned another faint smirk, though he didn’t argue. Instead, he let out a quiet sigh, his eyes closing as he rested against you. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

“Good,” you said softly, your hand continuing to stroke his hair.

For the first time in days, the tension between you felt like it was beginning to mend.

[pinkie-quinns]

rocker eddie/actor steve | exes to lovers | fame au p6 (final part)

p1 p2 p3 p4 p5 interlude

Steve thinks about second chances, as he walks along Greenwich Ave. He thinks about them when he tosses the wig in a garbage can that reeks of puke. 

And he thinks about them, when Eddie opens the door, eyes catching on the rip in Steve’s jeans, the liner under his eyes. When he lights up & says, “You came.”

Yeah, Steve thinks about second chances.

He offers Eddie a small smile as he walks in, can’t bring himself to acknowledge it all. The world of them. Him going. Eddie playing that song.  What that could mean, like, actually mean. Can’t do it yet.

He likes this place better than the mansion in LA. It’s messy and grungy with stupid, corny shit plastered on the walls. Feels more… Eddie.

They walk out to the balcony. It overlooks a tiny little green space, his neighbors’ homes. Eddie lights a cigarette and offers one to Steve. Steve quit years ago. Eddie knows that now. He takes it anyway. 

“Last tour I sold out Madison Square Garden and now I sell out Forest Hills.” Eddie’s chuckling, “Like I’m back at the trailer park.”

Eddie’s third album didn’t do the numbers his first two had. So they’d downsized, just a little.

Steve sighs, he didn’t fly all the way out here to coddle his ex, “It was a good show, Eddie.” 

“Yeah.” He drags, smiles to himself. “It was a really good show. I’m really glad you saw it, baby.”

Steve cringes, full body shiver. Eddie doesn’t seem to realize what he said, Steve’s sure as hell not gonna clue him in.

“How’d your meeting go?”

Steve tries to play it off. “Good. Pretty good.”

Eddie chuckles again, leans into him that way he always does, like personal space is more of a suggestion than a boundary. A hand brushes his cheek, a light, teasing tap of knuckles, “What’s pretty good, Harrington?”

Steve smiles into it. Can’t help it. “There’s uh… you know that blacklist script I mentioned last month? There’s probably a lead there for me.”

Eddie lights up again, bright and true, “Steve, that’s amazing.”

Steve snorts, “Not jealous?”

“Nah, I’m happy for you ba-” Eddie catches it this time, chokes on his drag, coughs and flounders, “Happy for you, man.” 

Steve’s not sure if he can do this, actually. Can’t face this Eddie. The one whose ego isn’t a storm cloud, who’s okay failing, who’s okay seeing him succeed. Who’s honest and sincere and wants the best for him. Eddie who would lose thousands of fans just to sing Steve’s favorite song. 

Eddie’s eyes are shiny, “But you’ve been good?”

“Yeah, yeah. Good. Keeping busy. I filmed an Amex commercial. Good money. Made my agents happy.” He’s rambling around it. He squints into the dark, drops it casually as he can muster. “I’m gonna start seeing that country singer, probably. The one with that Kansas song? Our people are setting something up.”

Eddie’s face falls, the sun out with a sentence. “What are we doing here, Harrington?”

Steve’s tone is bleary, sheepish, “What?”

“Been losing my mind this last month. Can’t stand not having you around. But you- you’re dating?”

It’s a shrug, it’s all he's got, “Sure.”

Eddie’s hunched, shoulders tight. He talks small. “You told me you loved me. Before you left.”

Steve huffs a breath. The air is cold. “C’mon. You were like, obliterating my brain with your dick. I say impulsive shit like that all the time.”

He doesn’t. They both know that. 

Eddie clicks his teeth, shakes a whisper. “Nah. You don’t.”

Steve falters, trips on his tongue. He finds his voice low and hoarse, he can barely say it, “Please don’t hold me to it.” 

Eddie won’t look him in the eye. He blinks up at the sky, “I love you. For the record. I um, I never stopped. Guess I’ve been pretty obvious about it.”

“Eddie, c’mon. Don’t do this. It’s not fair.”

“Date Dorothy.” His laugh is glacial. “I don’t mind. It won’t be real, right? Those things never fucking are.”

“I don’t know– it could be.” The ground’s falling under Steve’s feet. “Down the line, or whatever.”

Something cracks, crumples. “I had you. God fucking damnit. I had you and I–”

Steve’s not expecting the sobs until they happen. Flemmed and shaky and pathetic. Those brown eyes silver-wet like moons. 

Eddie pushes his palms into his cheeks. “Sometimes, after you leave, I just stare up at the ceiling and try to invent like, time travel or something. Just to go back and slap the shit outta myself. I was a goddamn coward. Couldn’t face it. Could talk around it, sure. Write it into my songs like that was honest. But, nah, I couldn’t look in the mirror. Definitely couldn’t look at you. I’m facing it now. I need you to know that. It won’t fix all shit I did, won’t fix the stupid fucking way I tried to fix it the first time. It’s there, it’s out, hell, it’s goddamn double platinum.” He sputters it out miserable, “But I am trying. Even if this– if we can’t. Need you to know I’m facing it now. I want to be better.”

Then Eddie looks right at him, looks at Steve like looking is enough to break his heart. “And I don’t wanna be selfish anymore cause it’s poison, Steve. But fuck. I know I don’t deserve it but if you’ll have me, I’ll– I’m there. Whatever way you’ll take me.”

“Eddie.” Steve doesn’t know why he’s here. Why he keeps digging this wound, ripping out stitches.

“Please? Can’t walk away again. Don’t have it in me.”

“Yeah.” Steve laughs. “You only do that when it’s easy.”

Eddie flinches. Shoves a ringed hand into a pocket. “Too late, huh?”

Steve scratches the back of his head and turns on his heel, “We can’t keep doing this.”

He gets as far the kitchen. Eddie quicksteps in front of the counter, blocks his out. But he’s cowering, ducking his head. “Did you um, like the song?”

It swells up all at once, that bone-deep cruelty of it. A gust turned tsunami. “Not really, Ed. Kinda broke my fucking heart.”

“Shit,” Eddie clicks. “Yeah, I, um, I’m not all that good at the grand gesture thing. Probably should have figured that out by now.”

Steve lets it all in. The red that’s been thrumming through his body since this whole thing started. Lets it possess him. He pushes into Eddie’s space, callous and cruel. “You’re really fucking me up, here. Do you know that?”

“I– I’m not trying to.” Eddie blinks. Frustratingly earnest. 

“What we’re doing– Whatever this is. It makes me feel pathetic. I’d be the dumbest asshole on the planet if I took you back.” He’s screaming now. The balcony door is still open. He doesn’t care if anyone hears. He wants them to hear.

Eddie’s lip is shaking. “I’m sorry.”

“I hate you.” Steve murmurs. The red’s coming off in whisps, quicker than it ever had, easier than it should. 

Eddie’s smile is weak. His face is wet. “I know.”

“You ruined me.” He leans in, finds half a punch in it. Last one he’s got. 

Eddie closes his eyes, brow furrowed. “I know.”

“I don’t want anyone else.” He’s tired. Bone tired. Tired of the ache that only ever seems to go away around, well–

Eddie’s guilt is plain. It's all of him. “I’m sorry.”

Steve takes a breath. He thinks about second chances.

“You really want to be with me?”

Eddie looks at him like he’s already burrowed in. Ribs and guts and blood. “Got my priorities way out of whack for a minute there. Jesus, way too many minutes there. But yeah. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.  You’re it for me, Stevie.”

Steve groans, taps his forehead lightly against a shelf. Eddie’s hand lands steady at his arm, awkward and cautious and right. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

“No.” Eddie says soft. “You’re not.”

“Yeah, I am.” Steve shakes his head. Waves a finger into Eddie’s chest. “You sang Dave fucking Matthews.”

“Don’t remind me, man. They’re gonna start shattering my CDs.” He pauses, sincere as ever. ‘I, uh, wouldn’t take it back though.”

Steve groans again, presses his head into Eddie’s shoulder. “No, you don’t get it. You sang Dave Matthews and now I’m gonna have to call my team and tell them it’s not gonna happen with the country singer.”

Eddie blubbers, big Saturday morning cartoon recalibration. “You’re– what?”

Steve shrugs, catches his eye. “Now I’m gonna have to talk about my coming out journey with Angie at People and dude, she’s been on my ass about it for years. Total sore winner.”

He’s shaking his head, “Harrington… Steve. Stevie.”

But Steve keeps rattling on, “I’m gonna have to tip off the paparazzi that Dark Pines star Steve Harrington was spotted sneaking into Eddie Munson’s brownstone at midnight for a secret rendezvous. Gonna have to go for a jog around the block first thing tomorrow, with like, more hickeys than a teen who just got their first girlfriend.”

“You’ve really thought about this, huh?”

Eddie’s back pushes into the edge of the kitchen counter. And Steve thinks about that photo that forced them together again, about Eddie’s easy grin, about the soft adoration high on his cheeks, about never being so young. He thinks about fucking up and growing up and growing apart and changing. And he smiles against chapped lips that taste like cigarettes and coming home.

And he says, “Gonna have to find someone to give me the hickeys.”

And Eddie lights up like the sun, “I know a guy.”

And Steve, well, he thinks about second chances. 

[diamonddaze01]

hi tara! if the prompt already hasnt been asked for, can i request 86 "Please just leave." with mingyu? thank you <3333 reading all the drabbles now hahahah

silence, at its loudest

pairing: mingyu x reader | wc: 1.1k prompt: "Please just leave." au: chef!mingyu | warnings: angst! and tears a/n: TIYA HELLO! thank you for this req it was so sad to write but i hope you love <3

The apartment was suffocatingly quiet for a fight. No music playing in the background, no rain against the windows to soften the edges of your words—just silence, heavy and dense, pressing against your chest, making it hard to breathe. Mingyu stood in the center of the living room, his coat still damp from the storm outside, water dripping from the fabric, leaving a faint puddle at his feet. His tall frame seemed out of place here, as if it didn’t belong in this small space, weighed down by the tension between you both.

You were perched on the couch, arms crossed tightly, a defensive shield you knew wouldn’t protect you from the pain of this conversation. You wanted to retreat into the softness of the cushions, to sink away from him, but you couldn’t move. You couldn’t look away, even as your chest tightened and the cold of the room seeped deeper into your skin.

“I don’t even understand what I did wrong!” His voice cracked, frustration and confusion lacing his words. He ran a hand through his damp hair, as if trying to shake the tension out of his mind. “I—I’m here, aren’t I? Why is that never enough for you?”

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your throat, but you didn’t back down. You couldn’t. The words you’d been holding back for so long finally broke free, raw and cutting. “It’s not just about you being here, Mingyu. It’s when you decide to show up. You don’t get to keep ignoring me until I’ve hit my limit, then think you can fix everything by standing in my living room and saying you care.”

He took a step forward, but his eyes were desperate, pleading for some sign that you still cared, that there was something left of the person he used to know. “I don’t understand. I’ve been working—working to build something, something for us! And when I’m finally here, you still—”

“You’re always working, Mingyu!” Your voice cracked under the weight of the frustration that had been building for months, maybe longer. “When was the last time you didn’t have your phone on you? When was the last time you didn’t cancel on me because ‘the restaurant’s short-staffed,’ or you just need to finish one last thing?” Your breath came out in short, shaky bursts. “You didn’t even call me back when you knew it was my birthday. That’s what hurts the most.”

The words hit him like a blow, a quick intake of air following the realization. His expression faltered, the first cracks appearing in his armor. “I... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Yeah, you didn’t mean to,” you interrupted, voice soft but heavy with disappointment. “But it keeps happening, Mingyu. You keep doing it. You keep saying it’s not intentional, and then you walk through the door like everything’s fine, like you haven’t been neglecting me for weeks.”

He froze. The tension between you thickened, hanging in the air like smoke that wouldn’t dissipate. “I wasn’t ignoring you, okay? I was just trying to... I thought you’d understand. I thought you’d—”

“No, you didn’t think, Mingyu. You assumed,” you said, bitterness seeping into every syllable. “You assumed I’d be fine with it. You assumed I’d be okay with the empty promises, the unreturned messages, the way you disappear whenever things get hard. But I’m not fine. And I’m so tired of pretending that I am.”

His hands shook as he stepped toward you again, his voice breaking with a softness you hadn’t heard in months. “I’m sorry. I know I screwed up. But I’m here now. Let me make it right. I’ll... I’ll stay. I’ll be here for you. I’ll make things better.”

You shook your head, stepping back, distancing yourself both physically and emotionally. “That’s the problem, Mingyu. You think that just showing up, just being here in front of me, is enough to make everything better. But it’s not. It’s too late for that. I can’t just pretend like everything’s okay when it’s not.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, the boy you fell for peeked through the cracks. The one who used to wait outside your office just to walk you home, who stayed up late to hear every mundane detail of your day, who never left you wondering where he was or if he cared. That version of him felt like a distant memory now, buried beneath layers of missed calls, broken promises, and unspoken words.

You could see it in his face—the hurt, the regret—but the distance between you both felt too wide to cross anymore. “Please... Don’t do this,” he whispered, stepping closer, his voice raw with emotion. “I need you. I need us.”

You swallowed, your throat tight with the weight of everything you wanted to say but couldn’t. “I can’t keep waiting for you to care when you decide it’s convenient for you, Mingyu. I can’t keep putting myself through this. I can’t keep pretending that it’s enough just because you’re here when it suits you.”

The silence stretched between you both, suffocating and heavy. His hand reached out, fingers trembling as if he wanted to hold you, to make things right, but he stopped himself. He knew, deep down, that it was too late. That the bridge between you had already collapsed, one small misstep at a time, until there was nothing left to salvage.

“Please just leave,” you said quietly, the words slipping from your lips like they didn’t even belong to you. They were heavy, final, like the last breath of something you once held dear.

His breath hitched, his chest tightening, but you didn’t look away. You couldn’t look away from the wreckage that was left between you both, and you knew that leaving now was the only way to preserve whatever was left of yourself.

He stood frozen, his hand still on the doorknob, his body shaking like he was fighting to say something, anything, to change the course of what was happening. But the words wouldn’t come. There was nothing left to say. The silence stretched until it became deafening.

With one last look, he stepped out, the door closing softly behind him. You stood there, motionless, listening to the sound of his footsteps fade away into the distance, swallowed by the rain and the night.

The apartment was cold now, emptier than it had ever been, the silence louder than any argument. And when you finally exhaled, it was like the breath you’d been holding for so long had escaped—too late, but finally out.

But the ache in your chest remained.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

[hergrandplan]

Hi! I hope you're having a nice day!😊 Not sure if you're still taking the 5 sentence thingy but I was thinking of Wilmon💜 and "So you're saying we got lost and we don't know where we are?".

Hi! I'm so sorry that this is so late, but I couldn't figure it out until last night lol. Warning: angst ahead (disclaimer: this thing is inspired by a little AU I worked on a few months ago and is partially written on a train so please excuse any mistakes💜

“So, you’re saying we got lost and we don’t know where we are?” Simon stared aheaf of him, at the snow-covered road, the miles and miles of nothingness.

Beside him, Wille hit the navigation again, but it still wouldn’t come to life.

“Told you we should’ve taken a map.” Simon thumped his head against the headrest, closing his eyes. At least they were in a car, somewhat warm and shielded from the elements. “This wouldn’t have happened with a map.”

“I’m sorry,” Wille said. “I know this probably isn’t how you wanted to spend your Christmas.” He was silent for a moment, then Simon heard him let out a bitter chuckle. “Stuck in a car with your ex.”

Simon opened one eye, glancing at Wille next to him. “I’m not stuck in a car with my ex. I’m stuck in a car with my friend.”

Simon didn’t miss the quick grimace that came over Wille’s face, before he schooled it back in a more neutral look. “Right. Friends. Forgot we were that for a second.”

Simon turned his head to look at him, frowning. “I mean – we are. That’s why I invited you along to pick up my mom’s gift.”

“Don't lie to me. You called me ’cause you needed my car." Wille's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, even though they hadn't been driving for at least 15 minutes now.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I called you ‘cause I wanted to spend time with you, because you are my friend.”

“Because that’s the only reason you call me nowadays!” Wille snarled, whipping around to face Simon. “You only reach out when you need something from me, whether it’s picking up your mom’s Christmas gift or se—“

“Don’t,” Simon warned. “Don’t you dare go there.”

“It’s true though, isn’t it?” It was now that Simon saw the anger simmering in Wille’s eyes, and wondered how long it had been there. “I don’t hear anything from you all year," Wille continued, "while you’re living your fancy life in Los Angeles or New York or wherever the fuck you live now, god knows I don’t know ‘cause you don’t talk to me, and then the minute you get back here you just pretend like everything is just as you left it. Well guess what, Simon?" Wille's breathing had become shallow, consisting of quick, angry breaths. "Things change in your absence. You may think that the whole fucking world revolves around you now, and your tours and your albums, but that doesn’t mean that we stop living the second you leave. It doesn’t mean that we don’t go on.”

“I don’t think the world revolves around me!” Simon yelled back, the car suddenly feeling too small to be having this kind of conversation.

“Don’t you? You certainly expect me to still be the exact same, knocking on my door in the middle of the night because you feel lonely. As if loving you wasn’t already the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done, there you go again messing with my head.”

Simon stilled, and he gazed up at Wille. “You once said loving me was as easy as breathing.”

He saw that bitter grimace cross Wille’s face again, but this time it didn’t disappear. “That was back when you still loved me too.”

Simon’s heart thumped in his throat and there were tears, threatening to spill down his cheeks. The words were soft, afraid that if he spoke them any louder his voice would crack. “Who says I ever stopped?”

Send me a sentence + wilmon and get 5 (or many) more!

[fancyfeathers]

Hi so this is my First time asking so im a huge of zhongli Fan and if in that au we were like wanting to Go out without him how would he react ?

Time Alone

You sat at the table, by the window in your home in Liyue Harbor, looking over the city. Your husband sat across from you, his finger tracing the rim of his empty tea cup.

“Zhongli…”

“Hm, yes my love?”

Your eyes traced the outline of the buildings, shops, and stalls. You have been out in the city with your husband a number of times, it was a common if not daily occurrence for the two of you, but always together. With the upcoming event of the Rite of Descension your husband will be quite busy, addressing how Liyue is to be run for the next year. For you this time normally meant you were often sent off to Jueyun Karst and placed under the care of the Adepti while your husband addresses the mortals of Liyue. It was so lonely for those days, the adepti watched over Liyue and while they cared about you deeply they did not exactly have the time to give you company, you were sent there so nothing would happen to the wife of Rex Lapis when he was to busy to protect you even if you didn’t need protection, it was just a way to keep you from running off.

“I was wondering…um…” You left yourself grow nervous as your husband gave you his full attention, his golden eyes felt like they were staring right into your soul. You swallowed the lump in your throat and just bit the bullet. “I was wondering if I could stay in Liyue Harbor during the Rite of Descension, please?”

“My love-“

“Please, it’s been over two thousand years since I’ve done anything on my own…”

“Beloved-“

“Don’t get me wrong I get along with the adepti just fine, especially Mountain Shaper and Cloud Retainer, maybe not Moon Carver so much, but it gets so lonely especially when I know the people of Liyue are celebrating and I can’t see them during it-“

“(Name)!”

Your husband raising his voice, not quite yelling, made you fall silent and almost shrink in your chair. Your eyes glued down on the tea cup in your hands, almost scared to look up at your husband as your heard him sigh. His hand came up to gently tilt your head and make you look at him. “It is dangerous to leave you alone, without anyone to protect you.”

“Zhongli please, just because I’m not as strong as you doesn’t mean I’m helpless, I’m still a goddess.” You said, still trying to convince him who was clearly unsure still. “Besides even then this city doesn’t know who I am, I doubt a Fatui Harbinger or an Abyss Herald will come after the wife of a funeral parlor worker.”

That made Zhongli crack a smile and chuckled which gave you hope, and rightfully so.

“Very well, I will see what we can arrange.” Zhongli stood up as he continued talking, picking up the tea set to clean. “I could perhaps find a way to have myself or someone else check on you.”

“Thank you, thank you so much Zhongli.” You sprang up and almost without thinking about it you sprang up and hugged him, leaning across the small table, wrapping your arms around him. He nearly dropped the tea set as he set it down to hug you back, a smile coming across his face at your joy that felt so rare to him these days.

[seuonji]

彡 the lyrics — choi seungcheol

—in which fans find out yn’s lyrics are about someone they know. not even her fellow members knew this but anyways, now their concern is, who’s the lyrics about?

part 1 ๑ part 2 ๑ part 3 ๑ part 4 ๑ part 5

song inspo— cheetah by deux visages

genre ๑ fluff & crack

notes ๑ band au! short smau. written chapter + some social media captures + a fun fact at the end!!

word count ๑ 1k

you came back from the washroom, swinging your hands to dry them, “wanna watch a movie or play a game?” you asked.

seungcheol was seated on your desk chair, still on his phone. if you peeked over you’d be able to see him typing gibberish in his chat with jeonghan and joshua. in his head, he thought of 30 different ways he could run away from this situation, but he knew if he left your place tonight without doing anything right now, he’d regret it.

“cheol?” you sat on your bed just across him.

“huh sorry?” he closed his phone.

“what do you wanna do?”

cheol knew what he wanted to say but also he didn’t.

but it suddenly spilled out.

“the lyrics,” he looked directly at you.

your heart dropped, “what about it?”

“who are they about? we were talking about it earlier but you never answered properly,” he recalled. you’ve never heard him speak with so much uncertainty before.

he saw the look of hesitation you had on your face. “what bad will it do if you reveal it,” he laughed softly trying to fill the silence.

it could go very bad. it could cost you your band, your career but that’s not what the problem was. it was bad because it could cost you your friendship with the person you cared about the most.

but what could you do about it, the cat was practically out the bag at this point.

“you,” you stiffly blurted.

you’d think cheol’s heart would start racing from hearing that but it’s been racing since he came to your place.

he covered his mouth, hiding his reaction. it’s the same reaction he had when he read the ‘cheol’ written in your diary, not like you’d know. “the lyrics are about me?” he asked to make sure but on your side, the words felt like a huge slap on your face.

you nodded in response.

“even our last song?”

“all of them are about you.”

that’s all he needed to hear to regain his confidence. of course he wasn’t happy to know the last song was about him, however with knowing the many other songs that exist in your discography was also about him, it felt a little good.

he rushed into a hug with you. you two stayed like that until he spoke again. “so you liked me?” he asked, still hugging you.

you didn’t answer so he parted from the hug. he kneeled on the floor and faced you, cupping your hands in his, “sorry that was a bold question.”

you were frozen still but his words thawed you,

“i’ll be honest, i like you, i like you so much, i like you right now and i’m sorry i never made that clear. after listening to the lyrics of our latest song, it feels like i’ve blown my chances with you.”

you finally looked at him in the eyes. “blown your chances?” you repeated confused.

“oh, do i still have a chance? does that means you still like me?”

cheol took note of the way you were quieter than usual. he gets it, it’s a hard topic to talk about but he wanted to get the ball rolling. he felt, there was a chance for you two. he saw something in your eyes, something that said you weren’t ready to let go of what could be and he felt the same way.

“damn, you can admit the songs are about me but you can’t admit you like me?“ he joked.

you chuckled softly, “some things are easier said in other forms.”

he smiled at your indirect confession but he still had more he wanted to understand. “well that last song you wrote sounds like you were getting tired of the person. as much as i love the song, how did you wind up writing those lyrics?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“i don’t know, you never made a move or showed any interest. but looking at it now, it’s my fault, i took it too quickly as a rejection.”

he placed his forehead on your hands, “it’s not your fault, we both were running away from what was just right in front of us.”

“yea,” you whispered quietly, agreeing with what he said.

his head was still rested on you and he continued, “i don’t know if you still like me, especially not after our last song but if ever you have even the slightest bit of feelings left or even none! i want to give you my all.”

you felt so weak and overwhelmed from all that was happening. for you, it was going too fast but something told you, it all might turn out okay.

you placed your head on his, “first, let me recover from all the heartburn.”

his head perked up, “huh?”

“i still like you but you dropped a bomb on me. let me recover,” you sat on the floor with him, still having your hands in his.

“you’ve been dropping bombs on me since 2 years ago!?” he squeezed your hands, implying the lyrics were the bombs.

“that is such an invalid comeback, also, 2 years and you only noticed now! honestly you didn’t even notice, you had to find out from our fans that the lyrics were about you!” you squeezed back.

“you daydream alot the lyrics couldve been those fake scenarios you make in your head,” he said moving his face closer to yours.

that line sounded too familiar.

“have you discussed this who my lyrics were about with jeonghan and joshua?”

“no. why? should i?”

“no.” you firmly said.

he just nodded and didn’t question it. regardless, he was too fulfilled with the current situation.

there was a long pause until cheol broke the silence.

“so after you recover, we can date?” he asked, tilting his head.

“yea sure.”

“also you have to tell me your thought process of all the lyrics you’ve written.”

you grunted at the request and laid on his lap, “don’t push your luck, if you can’t understand the songs that means you don’t pay enough attention when we’re together.” he scoffed and laughed, “you use hidden meanings and metaphors, it is not my fault if i can’t understand them!”

+

๑ cheol has asked you the meanings of your lyrics before but when he felt like the lyrics were starting to seem like they were about jeonghan, he stopped asking.

[batwritings]

I thought of this a couple days ago, and I CANNOT stop thinking about it. I saw people making fanfictions about a COD werewolf au.. and it got me thinking about Soap in particular.

Hear me out. Soap’s a werewolf, and the afab-gn! reader is his longtime best friend. Soap hasn’t had anyone to help him with his rut for YEARS, but eventually, his fellow soldier and best friend gets tired of seeing him so overwhelmed, and agrees to help him. Bonus points if they have secret feelings for each other.

Eventually, Soap’s got the reader pinned down, and he’s just taking all of his sexual frustration out on them. He means well- but he fails to notice the fact that they’re a whiny mess, struggling to take his knot and handle his roughness. After thoroughly ruining his darling reader, he feels bad, and makes up for it by cuddling them and giving them legendary aftercare <3

I 100% understand if you don’t want to do this btw, no pressure!

-Hybrid

*cracks knuckles* One Scottish werewolf, coming up! Enjoy!~

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You'd known Johnny since primary school, the two of you becoming rather fast friends. A shared interest over sports truly built the foundation of your solid bond. Finding out he was a werewolf didn't even put a damper on things; if anything, it made him all that more cool to you.

It was really you that followed him around like a puppy, even going as far as to follow him into the military. Everyone in your squad loved to poke fun at how much of a dog you acted compared to the literal werewolf, how much it had to be puppy love. You vehemently fought off the accusations; Johnny was your best friend! There was no way in hell you were interested in him romantically!

And that’s what you told yourself all up until this big bad wolf of a best friend of yours took a bullet for you. You gasped as he howled in pain, eyes immediately turning on the enemy as he lunged for them. You’d never been more worried and turned-on in your life.

So when Soap’s next rut came, your heart strings were tugging so hard you thought they might snap. He’d told you in detail what it felt like to not have a proper mate to go through those cycles was like, so when you found him in his bunk, halfway to full wolf form, sweating like he’d just run miles around the track, you couldn’t just stand idly by. You were going to help your friend whether he liked it or not.

“Johnny,” you called, voice quiet and calm. Bright baby blues that had turned a vibrant golden locked onto you. You knelt beside the bed onto the cold unforgiving cement and stroked his cheek softly.

Immediately the man leaned into your touch. “Your touch is like a cool drink Y/N,” he whined. Somewhere in his mind, you were sure he thought he sounded smooth, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise. Your thumb stroked over his stubbly cheeks with a fondness only reserved for him. “How to Know You’re Getting in too Deep With Your Bestie”, a memoir by Y/N.

“You’re suffering Soap,” you told him, gently helping him onto his back so you could straddle his hips. Eyes like the full moon never left you, tracking your every movement. You were only in a regulation shirt and your boyshorts. The feel of his hard length, knot and all didn’t go unnoticed as your pussy twitched eagerly. “Quit pushing me away and let me help.”

The next round of movements were a blur to you, but you knew for certain at least how you ended up face down into the mattress. You heard the shredding of fabric as your underwear was torn with the flick of a claw. You jump a bit when you feel the cold nuzzle of his nose against your slick cunt and you can tell how he revels at your moan when he warm tongue laps some of it up.

A low growl resounds in your ear next sending a shiver down your spine. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this leannan,” comes Soap’s rough voice right against the shell of your ear, earning him a whimper of excitement. You can feel where his cock lines up with your entrance and the slight burn as you’re stretched in one quick thrust. It rips a scream of pleasure from your throat that seems to only egg him on more.

Between the hot panting of the wolf in your ear and the exponentially thick cock ramming into you over and over, it was no surprise that you came first. Your wet hot walls contracted around your best friend’s member over and over, as if milking it. The werewolf above you growled in pleasure, head thrown back as he could finally mate. 

So many years he had been on the brink of asking you to let him mate you, to breed you, even if just once. The sensation of actually being able to do it was better than he could have ever dreamed. And you yourself certainly weren’t complaining. 

It had the both of you in a fog of pleasure, your minds obscured by the haze of sex. Even in the moments you were begging, pleading for him to stop, he never slowed, orgasm after orgasm wracking your body. You were in a state of lustful bliss, simply letting your best friend take out the years of pent up sexual tension on you.

The knot catching on your inner walls caught your attention. Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew you shouldn’t be able to make that fit. You tried to babble out pleas for Soap to slow, to stop, to give you a minute to breathe. But the pleasure was bubbling in the pit of your stomach again and you knew there was nothing you could do to stop it. You felt teeth nipping at your shoulder as the wolf finally slammed his knot inside you, howling loudly as he came. 

Your own orgasm, how many this was by now you couldn’t recall, was ripped from you in the form of a scratchy voiced cry. You tried in vain to link your hand with that of your best friend, only to have him gingerly help you. That wet tongue was back again, this time lapping softly at your shoulder where he’s presumable nipped a bit too hard.

You were in and out of consciousness, as to be expected of someone who was just thoroughly fucked by a werewolf for the first time. So when you truly came to again, bundled up in the lap of your best friend, it was a little surprising. Your stirring caught Soap’s attention and bright golden eyes looked down to you fondly. 

“Finally awake are you?” He asks with a soft chuckle. You reach up and ruffle the little mohawk that somehow manages to show up on his fur at the top of his head. You could faintly feel the hardness of his member poking against your thigh. 

“Need a hand with that soldier?” you ask, voice raspy as if you’d been shouting at recruits all day. You’re handed a glass of water before you’re given an answer which you happily sip on. The cool liquid soothes the ache in your throat.

“Later leannan,” Soap tells you. “I’m sated for now.”

“You keep calling me that Johnny,” you say with a soft laugh, voice a little clearer now. You offer him a quiet thanks when he helps you sit up and sets a bowl of stew in your lap. You hadn’t realized before you’d seen the food, just how hungry you are, how much energy you’d exerted. “What does it mean?” Your best friend huffs his own little laugh as he watches you start to eat.

“Sweetheart.”

[thehypnone]

Sundown: Chapter 10

WC: 1K

Relationship: SwissAlps

Tags: AU; Cowboy!Swiss x Barmaid!Mountain, Transfeminine Mountain, Implied Dissociation, Hurt/Comfort, Grief

“She was the brightest person I’ve ever known. It’s like…she lit up every room she walked into.”

Playlist here. / Chapter 1 here or on AO3.

Read chapter 10 under the cut or on AO3.

Swiss has never expected to have to think about a day such as this one. He has never expected he would have to go about his day with the knowledge that on this exact day, just a year prior, his baby sister was being murdered to be left for him to find mauled in a puddle of her own blood.

Alas, here he is. Here it is, the first anniversary of Sunshine’s death.

He told Mounty a few weeks ago so she would understand that him distancing himself has nothing to do with her. She understands, but she’s not one to let her lover drown in misery while she watches from a distance. She’ll give him all the space he needs, but the moment she sees he needs her, she’ll be there.

The barmaid wakes up first to Swiss’ head resting on her chest and his arms tight around her waist. She looks down at him as much as possible, and wishes he could always be as peaceful as he is in that moment. Still, he soon wakes up.

Mounty sees in his eyes and expression as he comes to and realizes the date. The hurt flashing across his face jabs her straight into her own heart and she squeezes the man’s arm reassuringly. He doesn’t speak—none of their usual morning sappy giggles ensue—but he looks up at his girl and simply blinks and it’s more than enough for Mounty to know what he means. It’s a ‘thank you’ and an ‘I love you’ and an ‘I need you’ and so much more.

The barmaid nods, whispering as to not disturb the reverent silence too much, “I love you, too.”

Swiss lays his head back on her chest and sighs. It’s not going to be an easy day and it feels like hours before Mounty feels the man shift again.

“Do you want to talk about it? About her?” Mounty proposes, approaching the topic very carefully. “I’d love to hear something, if you’d like to tell me.”

“Yeah, I–I think I do,” Swiss rumbles after thinking about it for a little while, with his voice gravelly from unuse.

Mounty’s soft kiss on his forehead is more than enough of an encouragement, but Swiss realizes he really does want to talk about Sunshine. He never did, after her death, and now it’s been a year. She deserves to be talked about, though, she can’t be forgotten, the memory of her can’t simply fade. The cowboy owes it to her and maybe, just maybe, it’ll help him, too.

He sits up and turns to lean against the wall by the window, so she can look at his girl as he tells her the story.

“Her name was Sunshine,” he starts after clearing his throat, “Sunny for short. And it fit, she was the brightest person I’ve ever known. It’s like…she lit up every room she walked into, ya know?”

Mounty nods, smiling softly.

“She was six years younger than me and she was a…huh, a surprise let’s say. I don’t know about my parents, I doubt my mother wanted to have more children with my failure of a father, but I was over the moon. I wasn’t as happy when no one could sleep for months once she was born, but once she got quieter I was her biggest fan.

Then, uh…our parents sucked so I was mostly taking care of us both. Mom died when Sunny was around five. We were good, but you already know how my father fucked us over and how it all ended.

She was very creative. She liked to sing and always came up with new funny songs and new ways to make noise. Everything was her instrument, even the wind and rustling trees themselves. She was a…a true gem, ya know? There’s not enough people like her in the world.”

Swiss’ breath hitches and he outstretches his hands, desperately needing Mounty’s touch. She puts her own in them and laces their fingers together, silently saying that she’s with him and not going anywhere.

“I never told you that your voice–” his own cracks, “you sound very similar to how she did. You laugh the same.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, sorry. Should’ve told you sooner.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Mounty finally speaks again, “there was no reason for you to tell me, I don’t mind.”

“Mhm,” Swiss hums in acknowledgement.

It’s quiet for a few minutes before the barmaid admits in a quiet voice, “I wish I could’ve met her.” 

“I wish you could’ve,” Swiss agrees, even quieter, and Mounty doesn’t like the far away look in his eyes. Silence falls again as she tries to think of an appropriate thing to say.

“You wanna know what I’m thinking?” she speaks after a moment, squeezing Swiss’ hands in an attempt to ground him.

“Hm?” the man hums, barely there anymore. There’s tears in his eyes waiting to fall, but his stare is blank. The barmaid hates seeing him floating away further and further away with each passing second. She’s afraid that there’s not much she can do to hold him back.

“Look at the weather,” Mounty points out regardless, having to try. Swiss is slow to oblige, but he does, eventually peeling the curtain away to look out of the window. He doesn’t notice anything particularly special, though. Mounty clarifies, “it’s nearly summer and yet it’s been all gloomy for weeks.”

Swiss furrows his eyebrows. She’s right, but he still can’t grasp the point she’s trying to make.

“It’s sunny today. She’s here, Swiss. She’s here to remind you that no matter how gloomy the world is, there’s always going to be more sunny days. I bet she’d like you to think that every sunny day is her doing, her trying her best to make your day brighter. Dare I say you getting sunburned it’s her teasing you? She didn’t really go anywhere, my darling, she’s still with you. She always will be.”

Life returns to Swiss’ eyes when his tears fall.

Thankfully Mounty is there to wipe them all away.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

a spiders bite

pairing: spider-man!ethan landry x female!reader

WC: 1.5K

warnings: cursing, mention of panic attacks. should be it!

summary: ethan doesn’t seem to understand that his actions are hurting the people that love him.

A/N: spider-man au is like top 5 best AUs! definitely plan to write more in the future for ethan and others. i like to think i was the first one to mention jack as a peter parker varient (i wasn’t the first) honestly would be down for a part2 if there are requests/ideas.

also would love to plug @echnated​ for their WONDERFUL spider-man!ethan x black cat!reader and @burnyouwithacigarettelighter and their spider-man!ethan series💗💗

@alecmores my editor🫶🏻

been in the drafts since april 22

masterlist / ethan landry

“you’re an idiot. an actual idiot!”

“how am i-“ “you could have gotten killed or revealed your identity!” a swift smack to his chest with the back of your hand.

“how about a- a thank you, you know? instead of this hostility?” ethan yanked the bug-eyed mask off his face and his pillow of curls stuck out in all directions. 

“i don’t think you deserve a thank you after the stunt you pulled. wha- what made that smart mind think, ‘yeah, one hundred percent a good idea’?” arms crossed over your chest as you waited for an answer.

he opened his mouth with his hands held up and out, it looked like he had an answer ready, but his mouth closed and his arms dropped. he closed his eyes and tilted his head at the ceiling, a sigh leaving his nose.

“look, i was in a tough spot. i had to think in the moment and sometimes those aren’t the smartest ideas.” you scoffed, “damn right.”

ethan rolled his eyes at you and smoothed a gloved hand over his sweaty face. you kept your defensive stance as you blankly stared at ethan for almost getting himself hurt. acting like a bitch was your facade when you wanted to keep your emotions hidden and in check, but you knew the longer this conversation continued you’ll soon break.

“y/n… me being a hero, it means i have to put others before myself. i’m constantly putting my life on the line every time i go out on the streets, keeping an eye out for dangerous people. so if me saving you puts my life on the line-” he stepped closer and your eyes looked him up and down, a crack in the mask. his free hand caressed your cheek, his thumb touching your dark circles. “i will always choose you over my life.” he whispered his confession.

you felt the twitch to your brows and the flare of your nostrils as you tilted your head to look into his soft eyes. “that’s suicidal of you. and fucking dumb!” you shoved his chest, making him stumble from the unexpected reaction.

you moved away from ethan, needing to keep a distance to keep yourself level-headed. your fingers scrunched the roots of your disheveled hair, eyes tightly shut as you scrunch your face up. a yell was waiting to rip from your throat.

“why- why would you say something like that, ethan? never-never, say you’ll choose mine over yours! do you… do you even understand how just the- the thought of you gone…” dampness came to your eyes and you felt the snot ready to run. shaky hands ran down your face, your breathing getting harder.

“hey…” the sound of ethan’s voice caused a slight jump. you stuck a hand out, needing to keep the space.

“i… i know you weren’t given a choice when given your powers. and you decide to do good for new york and- and help people, big or small… that's incredibly brave of you. and i’ve always stuck by your side and helped you in difficult times. but with these- these- these fucking villains started to show up more each day and getting more dangerous…” tears rained down your face and you saw how ethan had to restrain himself. “i worry about you every time i hear a siren or someone shouting for help. i always have the news playing and notifications on social media to keep constant updates when you're swinging around. and- and when i hear word that you’ve taken a tumble or some shit… i- i- i start to panic and hyperventilate and then my body starts to shake and my throat tightens…” as you were explaining to ethan the reactions started to show.

you were shaking your hands out then switching to tapping the pads of your fingers together in quick succession. your chest was moving up and down in short, shallow breaths and every time you breathed out your mouth it was a shudder. when trying to swallow your throat felt completely closed and the tears were forming.

“ethan… i can’t lose you, ever.” a weak whisper. “you- you don’t un-understand what it- it would be like to- to- to live-“

ethan’s nylon arms wrapped you nicely and tight like a weighted blanket. a hand pushed your head into the crook of his neck while he leaned his chin against your temple. while your arms took a second to process his touch, they moved inch by inch until you reciprocated the tight hold.

with your eyes slipped shut you took deep breaths in through the nose to inhale ethan’s scent, sweat mixed with something clean almost floral. you counted each time his chest moved with yours and let the tingles of his fingers run over your body. he kept his voice low and it was deep as he whispered reassurance into the air and your ear when he moved his head near your shoulder.

when he pressed a kiss to the skin just below your hair, you felt your shoulders slouch just a bit. it was like each touch and breath ethan took, allowed your brain to come down from its panic and focus on the present.

ethan is alive and you're in his arms.

“you won’t lose me y/n. i promise. you’re the reason i fight to stay alive and come back to your warmth every day and every night. you keep me stable and make sure i don’t run around with my head cut off.” you gave a dry chuckle at his words.

ethan leaned back and stared down at you, hands moving from their previous spots to hold your cheeks. your arms loosened their tight grasp around his waist, palms flat against his spine. ethan’s clear brown eyes peered deep into your soul, it made you nervous.

“fighting leprechauns and human octopuses are things i’ll constantly deal with if it keeps the city safe, but most importantly…” his head moved closer, your eyes watching every closing inch. “i’ll keep fighting the bad guys if it means you’re safe. i want you to understand that. you are my number one priority.”

and he pressed his chapped lips softly against yours. you froze before melting into the warmth he caused in your bones. the tips of your fingers skated over the smooth fabric of his suit until you were clutching his biceps. the kiss made you a bit lightheaded, almost tipsy but you were sober and clear-headed.

ethan pulled away and you almost groaned in disappointment. you kept your eyes closed just a bit longer in case the moment was just a daydream and when you opened them you would still be in your room, with ethan still dressed in his outfit, but the kiss wouldn’t have existed. with a flutter to your lashes and parted lips, the scene was exactly as imagined, but ethan was close and his hands were still holding your face.

“that wasn’t a dream?” you sighed in relief. ethan grinned at your words as he shook his head, his curls swishing. “not a dream. a wish come true for me.”

“such a romantic.” you joked to hopefully hide the heat on your face. “a wish came true for me as well.”

his grin widened. he swiped his right thumb over your cheek, “i promise you, i’ll always come back. no matter what, nothing is keeping me from you.” he finished his sentence with a kiss on your forehead.

you wanted to fight him on the honey-sweet sentiment. you saw how hurt he’s been recently, more cuts and bruises to his pale skin that- yes they heal quickly, but he’s still human. you hear how spider-man is struggling to stay on his feet or how he’s throwing punches that don’t land from the news as you pace in your room. you see how he groans and squeezes his eyes shut whenever you help clean him up when he climbs through your window looking ready to clasp. some days you worry he’ll be killed and you won’t hear about it until the news makes the official announcement, the news anchor saying in their somber tone “we regret to inform the citizens of brooklyn that the vigilante hero, spider-man, has been killed by…” and everything would turn to white noise as you fall to your knees and scream your lungs out.

but you also know how hard ethan fights. even if it’s his last breath he will give his all to stop the dangers from harming civilians. and how sweet he is to the people on the streets. how he will pick a cat from a tree it scurried up and was too afraid to leave. if a child was crying he would crouch to their level and ask their name, and try to make them smile or laugh.

as you stood in his embrace you let your heart skip a beat or two as you remembered that you finally got to kiss ethan. you tried to push the scary “what ifs” away and focused on his lean stature and how he kept placing quick but heartfelt kisses to the crown of your head.

“okay,” you replied after a while, “just come back to me and i’ll forever help bandage you back together,” you spoke into his chest.

another kiss to your hair, “i promise. i can't lose my girl when i just got her.” and you hear his heart speed up.

...

[sailforvalinor]

For Christmas ficlet!

Harry and Monty, fruitcake

-Rain

This takes place in my fix-it AU, where the Potters live, and Harry has a younger brother.

When Ron and Harry walked into the Potter’s kitchen on a cold afternoon a couple of days before Christmas, they found Monty sitting at the kitchen table, apparently contemplating a fruitcake. It sat on a plate in the center of the table, and a piece of foil sat beside it, as if it had just been unwrapped.

“Harry,” he said, not looking up, “fruitcake.”

“Oh, right,” said Harry, as if that told him everything he needed to know. He took a seat across from Monty, and also began contemplating the fruitcake just as intently as his brother.

“Um…fruitcake?” Ron echoed, bewildered. He studied the dessert in question. Nothing seemed particularly remarkable about it; it just appeared to be a normal round fruitcake—meaning that it looked stodgy and unappetizing.

Both of the boys were too lost in thought to answer Ron’s question. He noticed that while Harry looked excited, Monty had a bit of a grim set to his mouth. After a few seconds, Harry commented, “Looks pretty solid this year.”

“Yeah,” Monty agreed. There was another pause as they continued to think. “Take turns dropping it from our window?” Monty suggested.

“Boring,” Harry said.

“What?” Ron said. Was this fruitcake hexed? Cursed?

“Tug of war,” Harry said. “Tie two bits of string to it, whoever gets the bigger half—“

“—like a wishbone? Like the Americans do?”

“Yeah.”

“Not sure how you’d actually get the string to work…”

Just at that moment, Ginny came in from the sitting room. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Fruitcake,” Monty said.

“Ah.” Just like Harry, Ginny seemed to think this explained everything. Coming over to lean on the back of Monty’s chair, she also joined them in the contemplation of the fruitcake.

“Just what is going on here?” Ron asked.

“Sparklers,” she said after a moment. “Big ones. Stick a bunch in the top, light them, and—“

“—nobody wins at sparklers, Gin,” Monty said, crossing his arms.

“Everybody wins at sparklers, Fleamont.”

Monty raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Ron felt like he was losing his mind. “Is somebody going to tell me what in the name of Merlin is going on with this fruitcake?!” he exclaimed.

Suddenly, there was a loud CRACK, and with it came James Potter, apparating into the kitchen barely a foot from where Ron was standing. “Rejoice, boys, your fruitcake-y musings are over!” he exclaimed grandly. “For I have—ooh, sorry, Ron,” he said, noticing Ron having to stumble back. He patted him on the shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here though,” he said with a conspiratorial grin. “You’re just in time.”

Ron couldn’t help but grin back—Harry’s dad was just so cool. “With what, Mr. Potter? With the…” He floundered, unsure. “The fruitcake?” he asked tentatively.

James blinked in surprise. “What, Harry didn’t tell you?”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “What, you don’t know?” He seemed genuinely shocked.

“Obviously not, mate.”

“Really? I could have sworn I’ve told you about this before…” Harry scratched the back of his head. “Well, the fruitcake’s from our Aunt Petunia. She and my mum don’t talk anymore. She’s kind of…anti-wizard.“

“—not to mention, anti-James,” James muttered under his breath, with a slight grin.

“She sends a fruitcake every Christmas, though,” Harry said.

“Honestly, I can’t tell if it’s meant to be a peace offering or hate mail,” Monty mused. Ginny snorted.

At Ron’s questioning look, Harry explained, “It’s absolutely horrible. It’s like eating chunky glue.”

“You would know,” Monty pointed out innocently.”

“That was a gluestick, and I was five. Anyway, you’d probably know better—you’re the one who always ends up eating it.”

Ron stared at Monty. “Why would you eat the fruitcake if it tastes like chunky glue?”

“Hey, I don’t eat it willingly,” Monty said. “We play a different game every year involving the fruitcake. Loser has to eat it. Or…” He turned slightly green. “Whatever’s left of it.”

“What does the winner get?” Ron asked.

“They don’t have to eat the fruitcake,” Harry said, as if it was obvious.

“Oh.” It all seemed a little bit masochistic to Ron, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Thank you for the explanation, boys,” James said. “Now, I hearby declare that this year’s Fruitcake Game has been decided!”

“It has?” Harry and Monty asked in unison.

“Fruitcake hockey!” It was then that Ron noticed that he’d leaned nine or ten hockey sticks against the wall as they were talking. How he hadn’t noticed him holding them when he’d apparated in, he had no idea. “Had the idea when I saw that the lake was frozen this morning. Encasing this thing in ice will make for a solid oversized hockey puck. I already invited Pads and Moony—Tonks, too,” he added, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Two teams—I bet your uncles can rig up something like nets—and Ron, Ginny, I’m sure we’ve got some skates that will fit you around here somewhere. Losing team has to split the fruitcake.”

“Cool!” Ron said.

“Wicked!” Harry exclaimed.

Monty, on the other hand, looked greener, if possible. Despite looking uncannily like a smaller version of James (sans-glasses), he hadn’t inherited many of his daredevil tendencies. “Do we actually have to use the fruitcake? Can’t we use an actual puck?”

“As per the rules of The Fruitcake Game—which I made up—no, the fruitcake must actually be integrated into the game for the game to be recognized as a valid Fruitcake Game,” James said, with matter-of-fact glee. “Freezing it might make it a little soggy when we’re done with it, but I’m not sure you could make it taste much worse.”

Ron blanched a little at the thought of eating soggy fruitcake, but it mostly served to fuel his desire not to lose. A glance at Harry and Ginny told him that they probably shared his sentiments, but Monty still seemed unconvinced.

“But Dad,” Monty protested, “did you actually look closely at the lake to see if it was safe for skating? Did you test it?”

“Well…no,” James admitted.

“Somebody could fall through!” Monty exclaimed.

Ron was surprised that Monty was getting so worked up over this whole thing—“worked up” and “Monty” weren’t usually words that went together. Then again, he was the overly cautious type, and, given his alleged track record with Fruitcake Games, was probably facing being forced to eat wet-chunky-glue-cake. A perfect storm.

“I think you’re forgetting something.” James suddenly knelt down in front of Monty and took his face in his hands. Ginny backed away from them a little, watching them with a mystified expression. “You, my son,” James said, with exaggerated solemnity, “are a wizard.” He pulled his wand out of his jacket and waggled it at him. “And so am I. And as wizards, we know little spells like Glacius.” At the incantation, a puff of mist shot out of the tip of his wand and hit the petal of a poinsettia sitting on the counter, covering it in ice.

Monty didn’t look impressed. “Dad, what if one of the Muggles sees you doing that?”

“You, my son,” James said, with the same level of gravitas, “are a wet blanket.”

“Mum,” Monty called, “Dad just called me a wet blanket!”

“Well, he is a little bit right,” Lily’s voice answered from upstairs.

“Mum!” Monty protested.

A moment later, she came downstairs and joined them in the kitchen. “Aww, but you’re my favorite wet blanket!” she said, pinching his cheek. “Does that make you feel better?”

“No,” Monty replied, turning slightly red. Ginny sniggered, and Monty turned redder.

“How was work, James?” Lily asked, as she relented and left her son alone.

James sprang to his feet. “Work was work, he said dismissively. “But you’re just in time, Evans!” He swooped in for a quick kiss on her cheek (to which she giggled like a schoolgirl), then turned to the fruitcake, rolling up his sleeves. “Time for the Fruitcake Game to commence!”

Just as he pointed his wand at the fruitcake, however, Lily plucked it out of his hand. “I’m afraid there will be no freezing of fruitcakes, boys, or any Fruitcake Games at all this year.”

“Huh?” Harry said.

“I…” Lily looked slightly nervous, then continued, “I invited Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley for dinner. Tonight.”

James stared at her blankly. “You did what?”

“But, they said no, right?” Harry asked.

Lily seemed to gather her strength. She straightened. “No, Harry, they said yes. And so, this fruitcake,” she said, wrapping the cake back up in its foil, “will remain untouched and undamaged until tonight, when we will all eat it. Understood?”

Ron watched as the blood slowly drained from James, Harry, and Monty’s faces. Whoa, he thought. How bad are these Muggles?

“Understood?” Lily repeated.

All three of them made affirming noises.

“Good,” she said. “Now, I want this place spotless in an hour and a half—I will not have my sister judging me for my housekeeping, whatever else she may judge me for.” She turned to Ron and Ginny. “You two are welcome to stay for dinner, of course.”

Ron briefly looked over at Harry, whose eyes were frantically telegraphing go! Run! Get out while you still can! “Umm, that’s alright,” Ron said awkwardly. “Mum wanted us home by dinner, anyway. Thanks for asking though, Mrs. Potter.”

As he and Ginny stood in front of the fireplace, getting ready to use the Floo network to get back home, Ron muttered, “I feel bad for Harry and Monty. Being stuck eating dinner with relatives that hate you had to be the worst way to spend the Monday before Christmas.”

“I’m sad to miss out, actually,” Ginny muttered back. “I think whatever happens at that table tonight is going to be far more exciting than fruitcake hockey.”

[jeonbunnie]

promises

pairing: reader x namjoon

summary: marriage life with namjoon hasn’t been the same lately. he’s been cold and distant, always whispering on the phone. and you can’t help but notice…

genre: angst, drama, choose your own adventure,

content/warnings: established relationship; married!au; idol!namjoon; cheating/infidelity; implied sex; eventual smut; explicit sex

soundtrack: lemonade by beyoncé

a/n: this used to be a series but I decided to rework it into a oneshot. The plot is mostly the same, however now the reader gets to choose the big decision at the end (kind of like a choose your own adventure). This is one of the endings, if you want to read from the beginning, start here.

word count: 871

Choose Him

When Namjoon wakes up the next morning–you’re not by his side.

It was just a little after dawn. The sun finally peaked its head out from around the clouds, stretching across your home in vanilla sunlight.

At first, Namjoon is too tired to comprehend what it means to not feel your warmth pressed up against him. But as soon as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he realized he was waking from a dream into a nightmare.

Namjoon was so overwhelmed with grief for the loss of his marriage, for the loss of you, he didn't hear the click of the front door opening, or see the look on your face when you finally, finally came home.

You opened the bedroom door to find Namjoon sitting with his face buried in his hands. You went to him, sat by his side, and gingerly pulled his hands away from his face. “Namjoon...what’s wrong?”

He looks up into your face, and there’s shock, confusion, and tears in his brown eyes. There’s a look of disconnect as he takes in the sight of you, the suitcases standing by the door.

“You left.” He says.

You shake your head.

The tears in his eyes spilled down his cheeks. “You did. You left, and all your stuff was gone. You were gone.”

“Not like that.” You said. You did leave, but not in the way he might have thought. You went to think. To find peace and quiet so you could listen to your heart.

You made your decision. You decided to love him anyway, and keep loving him, and keep working at your marriage. Even though it failed, you would keep trying. Because love didn’t quit. It wasn’t pride, or anger, or hurt. It didn’t hold grudges or keep resentments. It was patient, and kind, and forgiving. Healing.

And that was what you wanted, right? To heal.

“I’m sorry, I should have approached this better.” You said. “I figured you’d still be sleeping by the time I got back. I just needed to be on my own for a bit. Clear my head, think.”

Alone, you had more clarity about everything. Though knowing Namjoon’s truth didn’t make anything any easier. It did help you find your truth.

Namjoon kissed the back of your hand and held on tight. His palms were wet, but you didn’t let go. He looked at you, and something softened in his eyes. “I thought–” he said, voice cracking. “I thought…”

“Me too.”

“You said you’d never come back.”

“I know. That was a long time ago...I promised you that I would leave. But that’s not how promises work anyway. And I don’t want a relationship based on promises. Those are just thoughts. And words. And they don’t mean anything unless your actions match up.”

“We said we’d be honest with each other so,” you took a deep breath, holding it for a minute before saying what you could only admit to yourself in private.

“I know I could start over. Find someone else. There are other men... but when I think about it, when I think about it, I’ve only ever wanted you. I don’t want to start over with someone new. And kiss strangers. And hope to fall in love again. I want you. I still love you.”

“I love you, too,” Namjoon said. Softly. Without hesitation.

“But things have to change. We just stopped talking. You were my best friend, but we were living like strangers because we didn’t communicate with each other–I can’t do that again. You can’t just keep all your feelings bottled up inside. You need to talk to me. I don’t know if I can be everything that you need me to be, but you have to give me a chance. Don’t shut me out.”

“Can you do that for me?” You finished. You looked at his face and honestly stared back at you.

“I can. I can do anything for you.” Namjoon whipped at his wet face. “If I could take it all back I would…I’m far from perfect, and I’ve done things that hurt you, things I’ll live to regret for the rest of my life. But I want to do better. Be better. And I know that I’m a better man when I’m with you… And I want to be by your side. Always. I can’t pretend it never happened. Like everything’s fine and that it’ll all be okay. I don’t know that. But I want it to be. I want to try...”

Now you were tearing up. You squeezed his hand. “So let’s try.”

“But Namjoon, I swear, if you try this shit again—”

“I won’t. I can’t. After everything...baby, all I see is you. I don’t want anyone else.”

Namjoon smiled at you, a real smile, eyes turning into crescent moons.

And you smiled back.

He leans forward then, till your forehead to forehead, nose to nose, and you both close your eyes, savoring the moment. That feeling came back. The one from the night before. Overwhelming, unfiltered love. And at that moment, you know.

You know you can move on. Fall in love again, rebuild your trust.

And you’ll do it together.

[inkdemonapologist]

Thoughts on the BatIM books not being canon?

Originally typed up an answer based on the one TheMeatly tweet about creators being given “freedom to make things their own” when telling stories in their world, and that the games decide the canon. I thought that “the books aren’t canon” would be a bit of a reductive takeaway from that – like, I read it as the idea that the books don’t determine the canon, and aren’t beholden to some grand future plan to make sure they fit with the games, so they aren’t a trustworthy predictor of what’s going on in the games and in the case of contradictions, the games win. Like, the books can’t be counted on for theorycrafting, but that doesn’t mean Buddy or Abby are “noncanon” Bendy characters – just that they’ll never intersect with the games. But recently Mike Mood tweeted that “if it’s in a book, it’s not canon” pretty directly, so I guess Adrienne has just been writing a Bendy AU all this time??? Lmao.

I still think this is sort of not surprising after BatDR. Before BatDR actually came out, I was advocating pretty enthusiastically for little references to book characters – I know this was sort of controversial at the time, because people were worried about the idea of making the books “required reading” and references you don’t get if you don’t READ UP ON THE LORE – but I don’t think this would be necessary. If you give Dot an audiolog that���s like “I may just be an intern here in the writing department, but even I can tell there’s something fishy going on. I’ve got to investigate. Wally’s always losing his keys in [hint for the player], I bet I can find them” then if you’ve never read the books, that audiolog tells you everything you need to know, isn’t tangled up in any Book Lore, introduces the character as if she’s new, while also being a fun chance for the book readers to be like YOOOO MY GIRL IS HERE. Even just a schedule that says Joey has a meeting with Abby Lambert, or Ms. Lambert’s name on a desk somewhere in the art department, or a couple of animation cells on desks with characters from Crack-Up Comics, would be a fun wink to the book readers EVEN IF you want the canon to not be tied up with the books. Heck, you’ve got the non-audio-log memos in this game, you wouldn’t even have to give book characters a canon voice.

But, when BatDR had NOT ONLY no acknowledgement of the books, but also….didn’t even seem to be going in the same direction? I think the writing was sort of on the wall --

-- the people writing the games aren’t taking the books into account and the books aren’t going to be referenced here. The only question was whether the books were written with the plans of the games in mind and… I’m gonna be real. The idea that the Bendy franchise doesn’t really have Plans as such and so the books are just guessing and theorising, but the games reserve the right to go off in a completely different direction if they want to is, uh, not that surprising either. Bendy and the Ink Machine has never really seemed like a thing that had a grand plan, to me, it was just fun to pretend that it did – and then when the books were actually GOOD, it sold the idea of trying to puzzle that world together even more.

So there’s a cynical part of me that’s annoyed about this being mentioned now, you know, after 3-4 different books have been purchased by fans who were interested in learning some lore while waiting for BatDR, and now that BatDR’s out it’s like “oh, well, we’ve never felt this was CANON canon” when before it wasn’t really sold that way. If this has “always” been true, then all the “is Joey gay” questions could’ve been so easily dodged by admitting that the books were doing their own take rather than determining canon, but that fans are free to accept that interpretation. Adrienne answered one AMA question about what would become of Dot in a way that implied she didn’t know, as if she’d created this character who now existed in the world and it was up to the creators of that world to determine her fate. All of this combined with that one clarifying tweet about how EVERYTHING IN THE ORIGINAL BATIM IS STILL CANON before BatDR’s release creates the picture of intentionally selling on original BatIM’s love of theorycrafting and lore-collecting because that’s what would keep fans engaged. Either they were carefully Not Mentioning that the books aren’t canon during a time when they needed the books to sell, or the decision to treat books as “noncanon” is more recent than TheMeatly claims.

But despite my complaining, I do think this is like… wise. BatDR makes it clear that writing a Mystery With Deep Lore isn’t really what they want to do with this franchise now, if it ever was, and so now that BatDR has done reasonably well they can go ahead and admit it. If they want to be able to just hand a comic project to some comics people and not have to collaboratively run every design through their own art department to make sure it’s one they’d be willing to use in the games if that character ever appears, then it’s nice to go ahead and tell fans point blank that these designs are an interpretation by a third party, not The Canon, and should be treated as such. I think it’s not a bad way to run things, to give these other creators freedom to do their own thing with the material.

But, well, as for me and my feelings… I liked the books. I got into this franchise backwards, from a fansong and fanfiction that made me care about characters from a game I’d neither played nor watched, and then finding the concept of Sammy’s ink addiction in DCTL compelling even if I’d only heard bad things about DCTL at the time – I started writing Taste of Ink in hopes of getting this out of my system so I could move on, haha. And then Illusion Of Living came out, this incredible picture of everything I wanted from the franchise, and unfortunately nothing else has ever quite measured up. Maybe that makes sense; a lot of Bendy fans had a hard time getting through TIOL. I think I wanted a different franchise all along, and back when there wasn’t any new content in the True Game Canon, it was easier to play out the thing I wanted in the leftover ruins of this one. But then the original creators came to restore those ruins, and it was a cool thing they built, but it wasn’t anything like the ruins I’d had so much fun in anymore. I’m… genuinely proud of how much I contributed to this fandom, and so thrilled that people have enjoyed what I made here. If you weren’t following me a couple of years ago I really do recommend looking back through my blog because I made A LOT OF CONTENT………. Early on I got an ask of “does ur back hurt from carrying the entire bendy fandom,” which obviously I couldn’t post because there were definitely other creators carrying it with me, but tbh there were very few of us back when I fell face-first into this obsession and I have to admit that ask gives me some warm fuzzies to this day, haha. Like, there was a little stretch of time when the version of BatIM that I imagined helped to keep the fandom afloat! But it, like the books, was never the direction that the franchise was going to go. The BatIM I loved was was collectively dreamed into existence by people who found that game’s premise compelling.

I still love Bendy. I don’t think I ever will stop. This franchise made such a huge impact on me for reasons that are still KIND OF MYSTERIOUS LMAO. I still care a LOT about this world and these characters, but I don’t know if I’ll make much more canon-adjacent fanstuff here. Cthulhu AU is giving me the human batim content I crave and several of the AUs I’m involved in have sort of become their own thing. Maybe someday I’ll figure out how to capture whatever it was in BatIM that took over my brain so intensely for more than 3 years, but I don’t know if I’ll find it in the franchise anymore.

[diaryujin]

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄

summary: you’ve gone missing, and your best friend chan has no other method of communication other than sending you voice notes.

genre: angst

includes: university au, minho is a thirdwheel/another best friend of you both, overdosing, attempted suicide, coma-ish situation, chan is a S-I-M-P, mentions of you both being drunk, mentions of weightloss and getting paler, chan is a majoring in music here, NOT proofread, lmk if i missed anything else

pairing: non idol! uni student! chan x uni student! fem! reader

a/n: i did this low effort thing bc i haven’t had the energy for anything else pls don’t let it flop i made a comeback i’m out of my blackpink era (/j blinks don’t come after me) (should I make a sequel) song lyrics: lost by (g)i-dle (english translation)

word count: 1K including song lyrics

taglist: @kflixnet

“Hey Y/N. You weren’t at university or your dorm today. Is everything okay? I know you’ve been stressing about…well, a lot, really-” sigh “yeah, so basically, I’m worried about you.” nervous laughter “Cause like, your roommate, Tzuyu told me you were in your room at night, but then you weren’t there when I came to pick you up. I hope you hear this. Take care.”

❝𝙄𝙛 𝙄 𝙝𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨❞

“Y/N, it’s been three days. Everyone’s worried, especially me. I know you’ve talked about running away before, but…well, I didn’t think you were serious.” silence ”I hope you’re coming back soon, you know. Uni feels different and more empty without you. Take care.”

❝𝙒𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙄 𝙗𝙚 𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪?❞

“A week. I’ve been a bit busy, but I haven’t forgotten you at all. Where are you? I think the police are still searching. They better be, you’re too precious to me to lose.” deep breath “Come back, Y/N. Come back. Everyone’s asking me where you are, and I don’t know and they keep reminding me that you’re gone and everything is haunting me and-” sigh “I’m rambling again. Take care.”

❝𝘿𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙄 𝙙𝙤?❞

“Two weeks. You haven’t even seen my messages, let alone these voice notes, but they’re still delivered. Please, Y/N, this isn’t funny anymore- ignore the voice crack. No, I’m not crying. Like- I do care- um- about you…but I’m not crying. I miss you the most. I don’t have a study buddy now ever since you well…disappeared. Kinda falling behind on classes, but it’s fine. I’ll catch up.” weak giggle “Take care.”

❝𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙢 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨 𝙗𝙮❞

“One month. Since you’re never going to hear these voice recordings, I might as well just say gibberish or odd confessions, hm?” weak laugh “They’ve given up. Your parents, the police…everyone, really. But I haven’t. I know you’re there – somewhere. I’ve been producing more songs to cope. You know how much I love doing that, I mean- it’s why I chose music as my major. Take care.”

❝𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙚𝙛𝙩, 𝙖𝙣𝙙, 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙯𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩❞

“Two months. You know, today I passed by a wishing well. I threw a coin, and guess what I wished for? I wished you back, Y/N. Come back, please. I’m not requesting you at this point, I’m begging. Everything’s become worse without you, or at least that’s what Minho says. He’s a bit wild, so I’m not believing him. Where are you, mm? I’ll come there, and I’ll meet you – even rescue you if necessary!” faint hmph “I miss you. I miss you loads. Take care.”

❝𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙣 𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙩 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙥𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙩❞

“Five months. Since you don’t seem to have heard any of these, I guess I can really just say shit, huh? Well then, I love you. Like- you know- romantically.” nervous laugh “Yeah, cliche. Dumb move. Fuck, fuck, shouldn’t have done that- but it’s out and true- I guess. Ever since last year when we…ah, leave it. Take care.”

❝𝙄 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪❞

“Eight months. I love you. I love you. I love you, Y/N. Please, I need you back. Everything’s so dark without you. You know that you’re my driving force, right? Right? I need you here desperately.” sniffle “Y/N. Y/N. Please. I don’t- I don’t know how I can do this anymore.” whimper “I can’t- can’t lose you. Take care.”

❝𝙒𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪❞

“Ten months. Everything hurts. I don’t have the motivation to wake up in the morning, Y/N. Minho says that I’ve become thinner and paler. Other people are saying watered down versions of that. It all reminds me of you. I’m so tired, I don’t know why they suddenly care. Eh, whatever.” dull groan “Shit, I’m ranting again. Ignore it. Take care.”

❝𝙒𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚❞

shaky breath “ Y/N, Y/N, please at least see my messages.” pained whimper “I can’t. I can’t. I need- need you. Badly. Fuck- I can’t bre-breathe.” rattling of pills in a bottle “I don’t want to live anymore. There’s no po-point.” quiet sob “You-You are my muse fo-for whatever I man…manage to…get out of my studio. I love you, I’ve loved you ever-ever since the day we drun-drunk made out.” sad giggle “Yeah, sounds cra-crazy, no?” swallowing sound, gulp “You’re coming back, right? Promise? You are, you are. I’m sure of it.” cursing under breath “Fuck, Minho’s here. Take care.”

❝𝙄 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪❞

“Can’t move on from you. I love you too much. I love you, Y/N, and I wish I had the guts to have said it to your face when you were with me. Will you miss me? Maybe you won’t. It’s been a year after all. You’ve probably forgotten about me, about what we had, and frankly speaking? I don’t blame you.” silence “You’re still alive there though, I’m sure of it. Eat well, sleep soundly, drink water, do whatever makes you happy, even if others discourage you, and even if it’s the police, and remember to love yourself as much as I do. I love you from the sun to Pluto and back, note that.” dry laugh “I’ll always have you engraved in my memory. You’ll forever be my first and last thought. Take care.”

❝𝙒𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪❞

“Hi Y/N. It’s me, Minho. I know I didn’t talk to you as much as Chan did-” annoyed sigh “I mean, he’s your bestie westie pookie wookie and all that shit, but like- I miss you too. There’s rumors about you being spotted around and you know that I don’t believe in a lot of gossip that goes throught the university grapevine – although I do love listening to it –” slight chuckle “I really want this rumor to be proven true. Make it happen, perform a miracle or something. You always disproved me in arguments, do it again.” silence “Chan, he…he’s in the hospital.” slightly muffled sob “I caught him overdosing on pills, which is what he was doing when he…when he sent you the tenth voice note. A month after that, he tried to kill himself, hence the eleventh one. That was like- three days ago. He’s still…still unconscious, but he’ll wake up soon, I hope. Come back Y/N. We all miss you, and Chan needs you. In his words, take care.”

❝𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙄 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠, 𝙮𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚❞

[unsteady-calcium]

Ok, I'm mid season 7 now, and I’ve had a moment to collect my thoughts. Fair warning, this is rambling...

To me, most of seasons 6 and 7 is great actually.

I like Booth’s anger and rage. I get why people don’t, but I do. I think it’s not only understandable and in character and makes me feel empathetic towards him; I actually think it’s a damn interesting narrative choice, and makes Booth a more real character than he has been before.

And I love Brennan’s fear, too. She develops so much, and her "fall back on rationality as a defence mechanism" armour is finally starting to crack. It's damn fascinating to watch.

I like that the two of them had real, emotional, character-driven obstacles to overcome, before they can be together. And that identifying those obstacles doesn't automatically mean that they've overcome them at the same time. It stays true to their characters and the journey they’ve been on together so far, instead of some half-assed “I have to focus on Parker” or “crime solving takes up too much time to try to have relationships”, which most TV couples are reduced to when trying to keep up the tension. I love that they gradually overcame the fear and the rage, their small victories and choices adding up to something big. They rebuilt the trust and faith that has always been their bedrock. It feels like the natural conclusion of their relationship developing for years, with the highs and lows that it has been comprised of.

Granted, the writers fumbled the ball when it came to the actual emotional resolution at the end. It could, with only a few changes, have been improved by coming at the tail end of a case which forced them to confront something about their relationship. Or the bare minimum, make it more implicit how scared they were to lose each other without having even been together first. Just, you know. Any reason why it happened when it did.

But. There’s always fanfic, I guess.

What bothers me the most is actually something else.

I feel like there’s multiple seasons missing between s6 and s7. Obviously there were pregnancy factors and all that, and my heart rejoices at B&B getting the full domestic treatment. And this is hardly a novel take - everyone seems to agree. But there is so much missing before season 7, to the degree that it’s almost hard for me to believe that these are the same characters and not... Well... Pregnancy AU, 13/13 chapters, 45k words, status: complete.

Don't get me wrong: it's a damn good pregnancy AU. They deal with a lot of stuff that is very in character. And honestly? The idea that actually, once these two overcome their fears and decide to try being together, they are rock sollid? is fair. It makes sense.

But still.

They're Booth and Brennan.

They deserved a full year of Temperance “my childhood trauma made me scared of my emotions, prone to discard reasoning based on emotions, and simultaneously desperate to, and terrified of, being part of a family” Brennan.

And a full year of Seeley “my childhood trauma makes me overcommit to romantic partners way too fast and also makes me obsessed with being a Good Man who does the Right Thing regardless of what the people involved actually want or need” Booth.

They would clash at every stage. Every label, every milestone, would be rough and every victory would be a hard-won battle. Defining what they are to each other, deciding whom to tell and when and why, moving in together, overprotectiveness, independence, trust... there is something new to tackle all the damn time.

There would be so much doubt, and so much fear, because the stakes are so high. Because they are Booth and Brennan, and if they lose this, if they lose each other, they lose everything.

And, after a year of trying their damnest to figure all this out and finally getting somewhere, the prospect of an unplanned baby would crank every single aspect of it up to 11. Brennan would be terrified of that baby. Because she wants it so much, and she wants what it means in terms of starting a family. Making something permanent. She would regress into her hyper-rational persona. Their happiness would depend on Booth recognising that, putting his own feelings to the side, and helping her through it. And we know that the more emotionally invested he is, the more he struggles with exactly that...

They would need every ounce of love and support from their friends to get through it. Every bit of faith from their found family. And that would be cathartic as hell, because forming and trusting those bonds has also been a part of the journey to get to this stage.

And they would get through it for the same reason that they have gotten this far in the first place: because despite it all, Booth and Brennan help each other to find faith, and choose to trust. They give each other the strength to risk heartbreak.

They would get through it. And it would be glorious.

Then, and only then, I would like season 7 to happen exactly the way it happened.

[kitsuvil]

— be quiet and drive. [kazuha x gn!reader]

warnings/notes; modern au, angst, NO HAPPY ENDING, breakup angst, lots of arguing, kazuha never actually recovered from his familyless trauma, cursing, im so sorry in advance, listen to glimpse of us by joji after this and imagine yn or zuha expericing it in a new relationship after their breakup

summary; kazuha was on thin ice and he broke it, oops. aka you guys got into an argument and broke up and you drove him home

words; 1k

“I don’t think I can love you anymore like this,” He mutters the words underneath his breath, but every part of my body picks up on it. I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to feel right now. Hurt? Forgiveness? Anger?

‘Do you really mean it?” I drop the car keys.

“No– I mean, I wish I didn’t? You know this, [name]. I love you so much. But neither of us can handle this.”

“Kaedehara Kazuha. No. Why did you think it was a good idea to pull this shit?”

“I never said it was a good idea.”

“So why did you do it?”

“I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

“Stay sorry, there’s no forgiving this. I can’t accept your apology.”

No matter what emotions course through me right now, I can’t make any logical decisions. No matter the feelings Kazuha’s face clearly carries. The widened eyes that have those all too well-known salty tears forming on them, his mouth that’s still left slightly ajar as he was ready to say his next words of regret. None of those words would mean anything, no matter how flowery he could make them.

“Don’t even think about sucking up to me. No flowers at my doorstep tomorrow morning as if nothing happened, alright?”

“Does this really have to be it?”

“You caused it, Kazuha. Who in their right mind would get drunk and rip every single of their lover’s childhood photos and proceed to cry about how alone and unloved they feel, despite the person right next to them and suddenly try to break up with them? I’ve always been there for you, cried with you for your forgotten family, even took you into my own family with so much trust and love, but you do this in response. You’re jealous, so disgustingly jealous.”

“I was drunk, I didn’t mean any of it.”

“YES YOU DID,” The burning sensation in my throat wells up until the hot tear drops fall down my cheeks. Never did I think I’d be yelling at the love of my life like this. It’s not even that deep, but the cracks in my heart from caring for him so much just to get this in response, just for him to pretend like I’ve never been there for him? Those cracks mean so much more to me than the shared memories we’ve created.

I gave him my own family so that he didn’t deal with the trauma of all of his relatives being passed. I gave him everything, out of compassion and sympathy. And he tossed it to the dirt and decided to rip up my memories. That’s not something I could deal with, not right now.

The look he shared with me when I came home from working for the two of us today is engraved in every part of my brain, no matter how much I wish I could pull it out. It was hopeless and cold, nothing like the Kazuha I started dating a year ago. Nothing like the Kazuha who looked cheerful and excited to explore the world with me. It scared me, the loneliness I didn’t know he was capable of, even if it was momentary. And I don’t know how long it’ll take for me to recover from it. Because if he can say that he doesn’t think he loves me anymore the way he did a year ago, there’s no way I can reciprocate the same feeling. There’s still a knot on my heart, one that he created, and one that I’d have to untie myself if he leaves.

“Take me to Heizou’s, I give up. You won’t hear me out.”

“I was already planning on it. Pack your shit, I’ll be in the car.”

I leave, wanting to be anywhere but near him. Just the sight of him makes me want to start crumbling into bits and pieces nonstop. I can’t leave him like this. But at the same time, it’s what I feel the need to do. I couldn’t pretend like nothing happened. Clearly he wants to break up with me and if he’s going to continue with actions like this, there’s no point in putting in anymore work.

But his hair. And his beautiful face. His hands that seem as if they’re chiseled by some divine being. His smile that I cherish so dearly. I’ll never get to wake up in the morning with his comfort again, I’ll never get to brush my fingers through the red and white colors of his hair. I’ll never get to hold onto those fingers, or kiss that face ever again. And oh man, it hurts.

“I’ll put my stuff in the back,” he opens the door and notifies me before throwing his things onto the seats behind me.

“I tried hard, I really did,” Kazuha whispers, almost as if he’s trying to convince himself more than me.

“Be quiet and let me fucking drive, Kazuha. I don’t care,” I start up the engine and drive away from my home, not bothering to turn on the radio. After a few sniffles and eye-rubbing from Kazuha, everything goes completely silent.

I peek over to the right to check on him, seeing him calm and asleep. If only I could look that calm right now. The sound of his slow breathing makes me more peaceful, but I realize quickly that I have to take a hand off the wheel to wipe a tear that ran down my face.

I see Heizou’s apartment building not very far away, nudging Kazuha for a second to wake him up as I pull into the parking lot.

“Wake up, Zuha. Please. We’re here.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, out you go.”

“Right… I guess I’ll be seeing you– Or not. My bad," Kazuha gets out and takes his things from the back seats and walks away into the building, disappearing into the distance.

“Guess I’ll be seeing you? What is that? Fuck. He’s rubbing salt into the wound. He knows I still love him,” I turn on the car again and head to the first place that comes into mind. The swings at the park by the cliff. The place where we met.

I don’t think there will be anyone who could fill the crater in my heart in the future. I wasn’t ready for this.

a/n; just writing this hurt so bad idk why i thought that was a good decision but i hope u guys like it... i will prob proof read it later